Fragile_The Frankincense and The Myrrh_You Never Know What You Might Find_Who cares?
Catalog Guide:
Fragile
***********************************************Hey all, this has been a crazy week and I couldn't write until Friday, so this was a quick one. There isn't a lot of action, it is just a simple idea, but my goal with these prompts is to hit the deadline, much like the real world. :)Thank you to the Reedsy community for all the support we all get here every week!***********************************************The thing about flowers is, they are blissful exuberance, even if it is only for a moment. They remind you to enjoy the small things because life is a fragile thread.My grandmother was the gr...
The Frankincense and The Myrrh
There is something so genuinely pure about growing plants simply for the delight of their fragrance. It has been my family’s job for 3 generations. How we came by this occupation is quite a story and one that comes with a rather odd request. We, or rather I, must ask you, dear reader, to use discretion about revealing the contents of what you will read hereafter. The story begins in 1946、 My grandfather, Dr. Jamison Edward Charles Stewart, taught what is now called Paleoethnobotany and Ancient History as a visiting professor in several universities around the world. He received his credential...
You Never Know What You Might Find
What time was it anyway? Lizzy looked at the clock on the wall and sighed deeply. It was now 10 am. She glanced around her living room in dismay. Everywhere she looked she could see nothing but garbage, remnants of the party her roommate had thrown for their friend who was moving to Alaska to start a new job. Lizzy grabbed a black garbage bag from the kitchen and began putting the littered red solo cups into the bag.MaryAnne came out of her room, rubbing her bloodshot eyes. She nearly tripped over a pile of beer bottles piled up near the hallway. Startled, MaryAnne looked down at her bare feet...
Who cares?
As I walk in the door of a stranger’s home, I wonder why I am here. I hate parties. All those bodies shoved together in a small space, moving to music so loud my ears cry; it makes me want to curl up in a ball in my huge bed at home. Then my friend Billie shouts at who I assume is the host with a smile fattening her cheeks and I snap out of my amnesia. I am here because she begged me to come with her. When she told me about the party, her leg bounced with excitement. What else could I do but grin and agree? Parties and I do not agree. I went to a party once, but my boyfriend at the time endedwww.onedoor.cc...